


grow up ( i'll run with you)

by NlKlLUVB0T (PERVJVN)



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Depression, Hurt No Comfort, Insomniac Bang Chan, M/M, Mild Blood, Minor Injuries, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Separation Anxiety, honestly this is just a sad vent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:47:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26999164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PERVJVN/pseuds/NlKlLUVB0T
Summary: chan can't take minho's elimination.(chan can't take felix's, either.)
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	grow up ( i'll run with you)

**Author's Note:**

> this is a rewrite, I dont think I'll ever write anything remotely positive abt w**j!n again tbh. chans too good for him, so let's move his love onto those who deserve it.

_you're doing fine_

Fine was agonizing screams and howls shredding through the expanse of a worn, reddened, smouldering throat.

Fine was bleeding fingertips, pressed painfully against glass as bitten nails clawed to be with the moon staring blankly into a dark room.

_have strength, just endure a little more_

Tears wringing themselves from swollen, puffy eyes. Was strength letting them fall? Was endurance allowing ones mind and heart and soul to claw itself apart, shard by shard?

_I'll be next to you_

Lies. It was lies. The whole lot of it. 

Chris was screaming. Words? Pure anguish in an assault of vocals? He had yet to know. 

Shattered glass and ripped papers pooled at his feet.

His paled skin, toes cut from the fractured frame that lay face down on the cold, cold wood of the floor.

He was alone.

There was no one next to him.

No one he craved so wholly, so purely as the one person in the world he felt he could rely on for everything. Anything.

Forever and always they were supposed to be.

Christopher Bang and Lee Minho.

Lovers.

Soulmates. 

Best friends.

Their love had no true name, but was more elegant than the most extravagant of fairy tales. More whimsical and wonderful than the fantasies of romance written within pages and pages of stories.

Minho was wine. Roses and baby's breath, sunsets and blackberry tea. He was the first snow in winter, the moonrise on the 3rd of May. He smelled of autumn and October. Of kittens and giggles.

Minho was the embodiment of life.

Chris felt responsible for the departure of his former bandmate. 

He still knew not why Minho was ripped from him, why he left with a smile and teary eyes as he kissed Chris just beneath his curls, sunkissed lips printing themselves on the paled forehead of Christopher Bang.

Chris knew not why Minho left behind a notebook with wobbly english writing. 

Knew not why the lyrics he wrote with inspiration and adoration for the departed male were written in smeared black ink, with a CD tucked safely in a paper holder taped to the back.

Remaining confused, wounded and unbearably lost he listened to the CD. 

Several shaky tries of Minho's voice dancing through the lyrics of Grow Up filled Chris's ears. His soul. The tight expanse of his chest.

The song remained on loop on a worn CD player gifted to him by Minho himself. Worn wolf and cat stickers covered it, along with their scribbled names in a wobbly heart on the bottom.

With the sound of Minho filling Chris to the very core, he had yet to hear the pleads and banging on his door from the boys he cared so much for. Looked over like they were his own.

Shaky hands played with a shard of glass from the forgotten picture frame, which held a photo of who once were the eldest members of what Chris felt was the most blessed and accursed musical group in existence. 

Tucked behind the photo was a letter written by Chris for Minho.

A letter he would never give to the younger. Too ashamed and afraid that it was his monstrous, confused pile of feelings he felt toward Minho that made the other leave. 

Dropping the glass with a jolt, red began to pool on Christopher's palm as he door was forced open, lock broke and five scared, crying boys stared in horror at the shell of who once was Christopher Bang.


End file.
